Formalities
by DCFanatic4life
Summary: He was on the edge of his seat all evening, watching the Hall of Fame inductees, waiting for it to end, all so he could see her...Chris/Steph...One-shot...


**Disclaimer: I do not own the people or characters portrayed in this story. The characters are owned by WWE and the people own themselves. This is a work of fiction meaning that for the most part, it's not real. This is rated M for a reason so if you're underage, then turn right around because I ain't responsible for corrupting your mind.**

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A/N: Okay, so this is a one-shot from me (I don't think I'll be persuaded into more). I feel like it deserves a little back-story for those who may not know. So there's a very awesome person on Twitter, Taylor (WrasslinLvr20), who went to the Hall of Fame ceremony over the weekend. After the ceremony ended, she saw Chris walking over to Stephanie, purposefully, and they were talking and laughed and she saw a Smoochy moment so let's all direct our immense jealousy over to her. Anyways, this is my interpretation of the events that transpired that evening.

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The story got away from me in length so it's pretty long, but I hope you enjoy it. If you want, let me know what you thought of it, I always love to hear from the readers and if you want to be brutal, by all means, go right ahead. :)

It wasn't that he didn't want to honor these men and women who had played such an integral role in the wrestling world. Without them, there would've been no company for him to aspire to be in. Yes, he wanted to honor these people, but he also wanted to be around her. He just wanted to be closer to her. Last year, he had been, he'd been close enough where he could just lean forward a little and there she'd be. He'd asked Shane for a favor, a small favor and Shane, being his friend (and Paul's enemy), had given him the courtesy of a seat close to her, where he could actually feel her presence and sometimes, when there was a lull or a short wait, he could feel her eyes on him.

This year, Shane wasn't around and he couldn't ask for the favor. This year, maybe more than all years before, he wanted to be near her. He hadn't seen her in weeks. With the pregnancy and his promoting _Chasing the Grail_, there wasn't much time to see her. She spent a lot of time at home with the kids. He hesitated to say her kids and for some reason, saying their kids just felt…it didn't feel real yet. One day, he hoped a day soon, they would feel like _their_ kids and he'd be free to say so instead of pretending like they weren't. He had never, not in the nearly four years since Aurora was born said _his_ kids because he knew the truth.

When he was lead to his seat, he passed by her, giving her a meaningful look. She was sandwiched in between Paul and his nephew and she looked absolutely miserable as she looked at him. He didn't know if it was _because_ she was sandwiched between Paul and his nephew or if there was something deeper. He knew she'd be missing her mom, who wasn't here that evening because of her political campaign, apparently being in the wrestling business had some stigma attached to it. He shook his head slightly at that, he'd never been ashamed to be a wrestler and he wished Linda wouldn't be ashamed. Stephanie might even be missing her brother, who had not shown up either, though everyone was expecting him to. What nobody knew and what Chris knew because he kept up with Shane was there was bad blood between him and Paul, had been for years, with Paul trying to squeeze Shane out until Shane really had had enough and left. Now he wanted nothing to do with the business.

Still, that didn't matter because he really wanted to know why Stephanie looked upset, okay, maybe it wasn't upset, but it was something. She just lacked that spark she had. She looked beautiful though and his eyes roamed over her body, taking in the beauty. He did that a lot, he couldn't help it. Before they were together, he'd let his eyes rake over her, taking in every detail. He didn't even know he did it most of the time until hours later, he could be lying in bed and recite every detail of what she'd been wearing, how her hair had looked, the emotion she was wearing behind those blue gray eyes. After all that, he had to comes to blows that he was attracted to her.

He'd never meant for it to go beyond that mere attraction. Had never meant for it to mean anything more than just a friendly attraction with a woman who was, by all accounts, beautiful. They worked together, they talked, they laughed, but that was all and he was content with that. He had a wife after all, though some nights he regretted that when he remembered the way Stephanie's skirt rose just a little too far for liking and he could see the smooth skin of her upper thigh. But he pushed those thoughts out of mind. He wasn't an adulterer, he wasn't a cheater, that wasn't him. He knew that it happened in the wrestling business, but not to him. He was a nice guy. His mother had raised a good guy, a good _man_ and he wouldn't let her down like that.

So he stayed away and yes, they flirted, okay, they flirted, but he was a flirt, it was a natural gift. It didn't mean anything more, just a friendly relationship with a woman he liked and was attracted to and sure, he could probably tell you what she was wearing three weeks before, but other than that, well, there was nothing there.

He doesn't remember when it exactly happened, wait, yes, he does, of _course_ he does. He just doesn't want to believe that he remembers the exact moment it happened. He fell, like any great man falls from grace. His mother had not raised a great man, she'd raised a flawed man, like every other person in the world. He had his flaws and he liked to think his biggest flaw was Stephanie McMahon. If he'd never met her, if he had stuck to that journalism degree, wrote about people instead of being the person written about, he wouldn't have had any flaws. He would have been the perfect Canadian citizen, upstanding, good life, the perfect suburban husband and father, maybe even with a dog running around inside his white picket fence.

But he wasn't.

She was his flaw. When they would write his obituary, many, many years from now, they could put that in. _Chris Irvine (Jericho) was a great man, with one, single fatal flaw: Stephanie McMahon_. He would be sure to tell them, before he died, that she was not to have that added _Levesque_ onto her name, not under any circumstances. He didn't particularly want to be rolling around in his grave over that one. Like any flaw, like any vice, he succumbed to it, to her. On a night, like any other night, he fell, the great man had fallen, his pedestal a set of crumbling stones, his Parthenon shattered. He was just a man, a regular man who kissed a woman who was not his wife.

If it had stayed a kiss, his conscience might have survived its fiery trip down, but it hadn't…and it hadn't…and it hadn't again until he was sitting here, at a Hall of Fame ceremony for past legends ruminating over whether or not he would ever get to call Stephanie's kids _his_ kids for that was, ultimately and biologically, what they were. How did he know this? He knew Stephanie wouldn't lie to him and more than that, she always got a DNA test after they were born. He said he didn't need one, but she needed one, piece of mind she called it. Aurora, 100% his, Murphy 100% his, this new one, well, he was already at 100%, but Stephanie would make him take another one and he was sure (he didn't know why he was always so sure), but he believed this one would be 100% his as well.

Now that she was on his brain, though she was usually a pretty heavy subject knocking around in the old noggin of his, he tried to decipher her look. She hadn't looked happy and that hurt him. He always wanted her to be happy. He knew that wasn't the case, that she was far from it, hell, he was too. He'd asked his wife to be here with him. She'd just been in Las Vegas, barely an hour's flight from there to here, so he figured, hey, she'll actually come to this, she'll be here this time as she'd never come to one of these ceremonies, hell, he suspected she wouldn't even come if _he_ was being inducted, but nope, she had decided she'd had enough partying and needed to go home. So he was here, alone, again, sitting alone, again, looking at all the other wrestlers whose wives looked ecstatic to be included in their husband's work.

He knew people would ask the inevitable question: why are you still with your wife when your flaw is Stephanie McMahon? It was not by design, the way this was working out, the way his _life_ was working out. He wanted to be with Stephanie, but she, in her sometimes infinite stupidity hated the scandal. She despised it and could he blame her, when her father had been immersed in scandal after scandal? She'd grown up with her father's trials and her father's cheating and she knew the scars it left forever because she was still carrying them. She said she refused to scar his children and her children, _their_ children. He tried to argue what expense this ultimately had, but she was stubborn and wouldn't budge. He tried, pushing against her valiantly, with all his strength, but she was stalwart.

So he stayed with his wife, who was just as unhappy as he was. They circled each other, they ran around in circles, never touching. He suspected she had someone on the side and he knew he should care, but he didn't, he had someone on the side as well so it wasn't like he was without fault. He who is without sin and all that. He knew they'd divorce at some point, then maybe he and Stephanie would get that chance. He had to believe in that, hold onto that hope, even if it was as thin as a piece of dental floss because if he didn't believe that, then what was there for his future except watching three of his kids growing up without him there?

"Unhappy," he muttered to himself, as he sat there, trying to decipher Stephanie's mood. Had it been unhappy or was it bored? Was it distracted? Dour? Or was it just plain unhappy? The person next to him looked at him strangely, probably wondering why Chris Jericho was muttering to himself, but he didn't care. He leaned forward a little and cupped his chin in his hand. From here, he could see the back of her head. Every once in a while, it looked like she wanted to turn her head, but something else would always catch her attention.

His legs were twitching, eager to move to her, to kneel in front of her chair and ask her what was wrong. He tried paying attention to the ceremony, he laughed where appropriate and clapped where appropriate, but if asked later the details, the funniest bits, he would be at a loss, but he could tell you what kind of bracelet Stephanie was wearing. He was probably bothering the woman next to him, with all his sitting back, then leaning forward, but he was beyond reproach. He just wanted this to end because then he could go over to her. He could ask her what was wrong. Then he could make it better, whatever it was, if he could. Someday, he'd make everything better, he'd figure out a way.

When it was finally over, he clapped, like everyone else, money raining down from the ceiling, people cheering, his eyes locked on the back of her head. When everyone started to leave, he didn't want to appear to eager. Someone might be watching and he didn't want to look like the desperate man he was. He stuck his hands in his pockets, a sufficient disguise for a casual man and started to make his way over to her. Paul was talking with what appeared to be his father, the noses gave it away, and Stephanie was hanging around the outskirts, but not involved in the situation.

He could hear a couple people call his name, but his eyes were on that black dress, the diamond bracelet, the wavy hair, the bump growing as he thought about her. He dodged people left and right until he was right in front of her and it was only then that the nerves he'd been sporting all evening seemed to temper down to a slow boil. He smiled at her, but her head was down. He smiled wider and she knew, she always knew and her eyes flitted up first, like they were the first things to want Chris. Then her chin tilted up and her hair fell around her face a little and suddenly her head was up, her hair tossing behind her, out of her face and her eyes, they were softened and her lips, they were moist and there was another kind of antsy creeping up into him like poison.

"Hi," he said and his voice sounded breathless, like he'd been laboring all evening to be around her and he'd finally reached his finish line.

"Hey, Chris," she said, her hand almost immediately pressing to her stomach.

"You okay," he said, pointing to her stomach.

"Yeah, the baby is just moving around in there," she said, looking at him pointedly. He didn't need the words to hear what she was saying. It was like her words became this physical manifestation and he could see them floating around her head like stars.

"I see," he told her, longing to reach out and see if he could feel it. The last time he'd seen her, she'd barely been showing and now she was looking rounded and just…beautiful. But she still had that look on her face, the unhappy one.

"Likes your voice, probably," she said lowly, so only he would hear and she pulled a little closer to him.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I think so," she said and their conversation was stunted and he knew why. It was that man standing right next to her. The man that _shouldn't_ be standing next to her. The man that never should have been standing next to her.

"You look beautiful tonight, just to say," he told her. "You just…beautiful and…no words…"

She laughed and she smiled and he felt accomplished and he laughed because she was laughing. Her eyes, they lit up and it was like she was waiting all evening for someone to say that, but he found it hard to believe _nobody_ had said that to her that evening. Instead, he had to believe she was waiting for _him_ to say that to her, like none of the other compliments had mattered until she had received one from him. He felt important in that moment.

"Thank you, though I'm no diva."

And she always tried that move, whenever he gave her a compliment, she'd try the old, "I'm no diva" comment and it was just an instinct that this point, he believed, because there was no way she could ever compare herself to them, she was so far above them. So far above even him, hell, he still believed her on that pedestal, still believed she had not a single flaw, though she did. He wondered if she felt the same of him, that he had no flaws, especially not one as large as her.

"No, you're better," he said and the smile grew. Yes, she must have been waiting for this. "Are you going to the banquet now?"

"Yes, yes, I'm going," she told him, nodding her head. That was all he needed to know. She'd be there.

"I'll be there too."

When he spotted her at the banquet, she was with Paul, standing close to him again. He was engaged in conversation with Adam, or so Adam thought. He was one of those guys who could talk and talk and talk and not realize the person he was talking with had lost interest minutes ago and was now tracking a woman like a hunter tracked his deer. She pulled away from Paul and headed towards what he assumed were the bathrooms. Chris excused himself quickly, though, even as far as three steps away, he could hear Adam still talking to nothing but the air. He'd be surprised soon enough to realize nothing was there.

Stephanie was just approaching a hallway, when Chris grabbed her by the waist and pulled her through another hallway and through a door. Where it led, he had no idea, but as the quiet overtook them, he realized he'd pulled her into an adjacent ballroom, this one quiet and the only light being the low lights they must keep on at all times and the light seeping in from under the doors. She had gasped at first, but she must have known his fingers because there were no further gasps or screams of fear.

"Why were you unhappy earlier?" he asked her. They had time, Paul would no doubt forget about her in favor of talking with friends and other wrestlers and nobody would miss him.

"You could tell?"

"I can always tell," he told her, pressing his lips to her neck. He mumbled against her skin, "Why were you so unhappy? Why did you look like you wanted to be somewhere else?"

"It's not the same," she told him, her hand gripping his hair as his lips moved to her collarbone, pushing at her sleeve so it fell off her shoulder a little bit. "It's just not the same."

"What's not the same?" he asked, licking her skin.

"Shane wasn't here, my mom wasn't here, it just wasn't the same," she told him and he pulled away. "Paul didn't understand, he _never_ understands. He thought that his family being here would be alright, that I'd be fine with that, but I'm not _fine_ with that. He puts me in between him and his nephew like I need bodyguards or something, they tell me, 'oh, it'll be alright, look, you're surrounded by family, nobody is going to ruin your night, but my night _is_ ruined. I don't want his family, I want _my_ family. That's all…"

He could hear the tears falling and he wasn't even sure his hearing was that keen or if his body was just so in tune with hers. His eyes had been cast down, but he could hear the tears. He looked up at her and cupped her face in his hands, brushing away her tears. No wonder she was so unhappy. "I'm sure he wasn't trying to _replace_ your family, just trying to make you feel a part of his family."

"I never have, I don't fit in," she told him. "I don't fit in with his family."

"You probably don't fit into many families," Chris joked and she laughed through her tears. "I don't much fit in even to mine."

"Oh please, you could just insert yourself into any family and you'd be perfectly fine," she scoffed.

He leaned closer until his lips were brushing against hers, but not fully touching, a kiss, but not really, "Could I fit into ours?"

She gasped again as his lips touched hers, not truly waiting for an answer. Maybe he didn't want to hear the answer, either way, he didn't wait for it, just kissed her, hoping to take her mind off her family not being here. Maybe it was to take his mind off his own wife not caring enough to be here either. They were like two orphans, wanting, but not having and she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer as they back up against the wall. The sounds of their kisses and their hands roaming each other echoed into the empty room. It was cavernous compared to these two people, pressed as far against each other as they could be.

"I want you," she told him as his lips found their way back to her collarbone.

"Here?"

"Yes, here," she told him. They'd never been ones for risks, which was odd considering they were usually so risky with themselves, but they liked to hide behind closed doors, take it slow, be with each other in the romantic and full sense. They weren't ones for frenzy or quickness, but it would have to be that way tonight because they could still hear the scattered voices of their friends and families (or lack thereof) in the other room. At some points they could even pick out particular voices, Matt Hardy yelling at someone across the room, Kelly Kelly screaming and dancing and being…well, Kelly Kelly or Barbie, whichever name you preferred.

She switched them around and pushed him up against the wall, the thud sound traveling around the room and he laughed a little at her prowess. She needed him though and her hands were tugging at his shirt, pulling it from his waistband and finding the skin underneath, running her cool hands up his abs and as soon as his body started to respond, she pulled them out and away and his jacket was falling to the ground as her fingers worked on his buttons. He helped her, getting the last few as her mouth found his chest next and he moaned as her lips swirled around one of his nipples and he started to pull at the sleeves of her dress.

"Zipper," she whispered as she pulled away. She turned her back to him and he grabbed for her zipper after taking off his shirt completely. His hands groped for the zipper and slid it down slowly, making sure his knuckle trailed against her skin. She shivered a little as the garment slipped down over her. She had to help it down a little over her stomach and when it was completely down, she turned around. She felt a little self-conscious, but only a little. Chris had seen her pregnant twice before, but there was always something a little bit hesitant while she was pregnant, like one of these times, he'd find her completely hideous and high-tail it home to his wife so he could sleep with her.

He looked softly at her and then down at her stomach. He grinned. He knew, he knew that was his baby and no test could ever make him think otherwise. He rested his hands on her stomach, feeling around. The last time, she'd only been showing a little bit, barely a bump at all and now, now she was beautiful and the way her hair fell around her face, he wanted to preserve this moment more than maybe any other moment since Murphy. She was always so beautiful while carrying his child, always.

He knelt down briefly and kissed her stomach, "Hey, kiddo, it's Dad, excuse me for what I'm about to do."

Stephanie laughed and pulled him back up, pulling his closer again and her lips found his once again. Even when they should be rushing, they didn't. Chris's hands were in her bra a moment later, massaging and rubbing and she moaned and he reached around her to unclasp her bra. "No time," she told him and he let it go as his hands roamed lower. His hands touched her intimately, his fingers running over the sensitive skin.

Usually he'd tease her to the point of begging and then give her the fingers or tongue she so desperately craved, but like she'd reminded him, no time. His other hand, which had been wrapped in her hair tightly, forced its way loose and was tugging her panties down. She pushed them down herself and they fell quietly around her ankles. She spread her legs a little, wanton in her need of him. She tore at his pants, his belt roughly coming loose and she found his zipper blindly as she kissed him almost savagely, her hand dipping inside.

"How are we going to do this?" he asked, wondering where he was finding words when she was touching him like she was. Usually, they could do this against a wall, but her stomach was in the way, which meant they had to get creative. They could lie on the ground, but it was hard and they didn't have anything but their clothes to lay on and he didn't want her to have to lay on the floor like this while she was pregnant. He didn't want her to wake up with a sore back because he had to have her at this moment.

"Well, I thought you might put your-"

He kissed her to stop her, "I know how _that_ works, I think the fact we have three children together proves that."

"Then what do you mean?"

"This isn't exactly a bedroom, you know," he told her, falling into that same old rhythm with her, the playful, joking tones. He didn't like to think she joked like this with Paul. Some things _had_ to be reserved for him.

"Oh, you're right and with this," she pointed down to her stomach, "it might get a little hard."

He looked around and spotted a stack of chairs against the far wall. "Here, come over here." He tugged at her, pulling her further and further away from her clothes. She glanced back at them a little warily, but she didn't go back for them. He grabbed one of the chairs and he'd be lying if he said the thought of them having sex right here wasn't a thrilling one. He set it down, the clank making a louder noise than he expected and they held their breath, looking at the doors like they would burst open and the party would spill into this room and they'd find Stephanie totally naked from the waist down and Chris with his fly open. The party was too loud, though, and nobody heard.

Chris pulled down his pants, stepping out of them and Stephanie could see how ready he was. This really wasn't how they operated and while it was fun, they'd need to be satiated more later, somehow she'd sneak out and see him so they could take their time.

They paused for a few minutes, just taking it in, being together after not seeing each other for weeks. God, she was his flaw. He could not imagine anything feeling this good, even after so long together. It'd been years and still, it felt as good as the first time they'd had sex. She leaned back against him and he kissed her jaw as she reached up and touched his face, turning so she could kiss him deeply.

"I love you," she whispered to him in between her soft kisses.

"I love you too," he told her, the words not even a thought, but his blood, every cell rising up to voice their opinions.

It was after that they moved, a synchronicity they had perfected over days, weeks, months, years. Their rhythm fluid, like water. They kept their moans soft, mindful of the party just to their left, the voices still wafting in, but readily ignored as she pushed down and he pushed up, coming together and then slightly apart and then together again. Their pace started to become errant, spastic almost. He grabbed her around the waist, keenly aware of the third heart beating just below her skin. Her arm was around his neck, clinging for dear life, like she'd float away if she didn't hold onto him. When she felt her climax coming, she clamped her mouth over his, a sticky, wet kiss as she groaned and released the pent-up energy and she crushed her forehead against his as she felt him coming in warm blasts. At least there was no threat of pregnancy as it was far too late for that.

They calmed down and she rested again with him. "I'm glad _you're_ here," she whispered to him. "At least you were here."

"You knew I would be."

"I knew it, but…"

"But what?" he asked, reaching up to brush her tousled hair out of her face. That was probably his fault. She looked so unkempt right now, but unkempt in a beautiful way.

"Well, we haven't seen each other in weeks…"

"And we've gone longer apart," he pointed out.

"Not by much."

"We've been busy."

"It's put things in perspective," she told him, then she looked at the light from under the door, the one that told her there was still a party going on, all their friends were still right over there, her daughters, _their_ daughters were still sleeping in a room upstairs, floors and floors separating them from their parents.

"It has?"

"Yes, because, I didn't…I didn't like it. I wasn't just unhappy because my mom and brother weren't here. I mean, yes, that was part of it, a big part. This is our family business, they _should_ be here, but my mom is too wrapped up in her campaign, it consumes her and she thinks that this business is hurting her, but it's not. Then Shane and I know why Shane is not here, and it bugs me, but that wasn't it. I didn't like it."

"What didn't you like?" he asked softly.

"It was too long being away from you, it just…it was…"

"I see, I agree, I missed you too."

"It was more than that," she told him, her eyes boring into his now. "It was so much more than that. It was just too much, too long, I hated it, I hate it, Chris."

A bolt of fear ran through him, she couldn't be saying she wanted this over. This could _not_ be the last time he got her, it just could not be. He would not stand for it. He would go right up to Paul and tell him that she was his and she was _not_ Paul's flaw, but his, Chris Irvine's. "What…what do you hate?"

"You know how you asked if you could fit in our family?" she told him, her breath falling slowly into whisper, like a fading memory.

"Yes," he told her.

"Chris…"

"Yes?" His breath held now.

"You fit."


End file.
